


First Impressions, Second Look (A Cold Case)

by navaan



Category: DCU (Comics), Justice League of America (Comics)
Genre: Action & Romance, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Comic Book Science, Comic Book Violence, Damsels in Distress, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Reveal, Inspired by Fanart, Kryptonite, M/M, Matter of Life and Death, New 52, Rescue Missions, Secret Crush, Secret Identity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-05-09 23:13:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14725436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/navaan/pseuds/navaan
Summary: Someone puts out a hit on Superman – and Bruce won't just stand by when he's in trouble





	First Impressions, Second Look (A Cold Case)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Roscuro69](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roscuro69/gifts).
  * Inspired by [A Cold Case/ First Impression, Second Look [Art]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14725298) by [Roscuro69](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roscuro69/pseuds/Roscuro69). 



> This fic was written for the 2018 round of the [superbatreversebang @ Tumblr](https://superbatreversebang.tumblr.com/) for[ the wonderful art](Roscuro69) by [Roscuro](https://roscuro69.tumblr.com) that has Batman lead a hurt/Kryptonite poisoned Superman through the snow. Set in a New 52 setting. And LOOK AT THE ART! How can anyone resist that beautiful art and the perfect option for a bit of h/c romance? Please leave her some nice feedback. Thank you so much for working with me!
> 
>  
> 
>   
> 

He went through his katas while the Batcomputer continued to monitor the recent news and police reports. It had been a quiet week in Gotham and Batman knew from experience that the calm before the storm was dangerous. When it was too quiet – that was exactly when someone out there was planning something big. In his experience his city had too many truly mad individuals who were always preparing their next big coup. The only thing he could rely on was that one of them would turn up to make problems when he let his guard down – or in fact also when he didn't.

Years ago he'd learned that it served to always be prepared, always be on alert.

Even now he listened for the exact fall of steps on the stairs that led down from the manor, when Alfred came down with a tray and calmly walked to the work station. He ignored Bruce, who moved through his training routine, not missing one beat.

“You shouldn't go on patrol too late tonight,” Alfred reminded him. “There is the request from the Daily Planet reporter you agreed to schedule for around noon tomorrow.”

“I remember,” he said without slowing down. “Won't be a problem. Tired millionaire party animal fits with the established image. Batman will patrol. It's too quiet not to show my presence.”

“You want the charity for young orphans to be taken seriously though,” Alfred pointed out with only the slightest hint of admonishment and sat down the cutlery and plates with care like he was setting the table above them in the grand dining room. “And not draw too much attention to the _nightly activities_ of Bruce Wayne.”

Bruce _was_ taking the publicity work for that charity very seriously, and he knew he had a thin line to walk when he pressed his influence as wealthy citizen and socialite. For years he had known that one day someone would make the connection and make Bruce Wayne a problem for Batman if he wasn't careful enough. So with all the good he was trying to do as Bruce Wayne, he knew to give himself a margin for plausible deniability whenever he ventured out.

He already had prepared for an event at a club where anonymity was secured with silly face masks and only to leave patron's guessing who else was spending too much money on booze and girls tonight. Any number of them would swear to have seen Bruce Wayne, even if he never set foot in there. But a little misdirection was enough to keep his secret safe.

“Bruce Wayne will make sure the charity gets the recognition it deserves. It won't be a problem.”

“Of course, and you remember you want to be featured in a positive light in Superman's favorite paper?”

Grunting as if Alfred had made an annoying joke, he swung through a combination of kicks that were designed more for someone with Dick's agility and speed than someone with Bruce's heavier built and felt his muscles strain at the change of pace. Batman didn't allow himself to slow down anyway. Sometimes beating your own body was what was needed to beat the enemy.

He _wasn't_ trying to impress Superman as Bruce Wayne.

He wasn't.

Batman was doing the trick. Superman already worked with him.

Flawless and without slowing down he went into the last part of his training routine.

“Sir,” Alfred said after a moment and sounded tense this time. That he wanted his full attention at all right now when he knew Bruce was concentrating on his vital exercise spoke volumes.

Immediately alert, he fell out of the routine of kicks and swinging arms, coming to a halt in a half crouch, shoulders hunched. “What is it, Alfred?”

“An outside of Gotham alarm was triggered. A red one.”

Out of Gotham alert? Red?

He'd always had a form of monitoring set for things happening across the globe, but this was different. This was one of the “special” out of Gotham alerts. He'd set those up after the recent formation of the Justice League. It was always good to know what went down in the world; it was even better to know what kind of problems your fellow heroes were dealing with, when their problems might become your problems down the line at any given time.

He grabbed a towel to clean the sweat off his brow and started walking down from the platform they used as their workout space in the cave. “Where?”

“Metropolis.”

Of course.

That explained the tension in Alfred's voice.

He hastened his steps.

Metropolis meant Superman.

Superman, who in their recent fight against the minions of Apokolips had been taken prisoner temporarily, and been saved by the Batman. Bruce - without a mask - had gone after him, throwing himself into a transplanetary portal not knowing what would await him on the other side. At the time he'd not hesitated, not doubted the sensibility of his acts. Getting their strongest ally back had been the priority.

And the only way to convince Hal Jordan to listen to him had been the drastic measure of revealing himself.

Only Lantern and the Flash had seen his face and now knew his identity. Superman himself had been too out of it, too hurt by the Apokolips technology, to really take in anything that had happened when Bruce had come for him, freed him, pulled him back to earth. After their return, knowing they had a bigger task before them, Bruce had put the mask back on and had returned to being Batman - out of necessity out of the need to keep at least some boundaries intact.

Part of him regretted that now. Why hadn't he told the rest of the League?

But he knew: _Because your secret is what protects all of the people close to you and it never serves to trust too many people with a secret of that importance._

“Why did you take off your mask at all then, rich guy?” Hal had asked him a week ago when they were alone. “It doesn’t seem like you’re big on sharing your secrets.”

But the answer was clear to himself: He’d needed the trust. He’d needed them – Hal – to trust him enough to go along with his plan. Because Superman had been in danger and with him their best asset had been gone. It was the smart thing to do. Bruce had needed Hal to let him do what he did.

And Batman had done what he needed to make it happen.

Reasonable.

_”Why not tell Supes? Big Blue seems like he already trusts you, even when you're playing tall, dark and violent. Which I suppose you are without a mask too. Dark and tall. Tall. Rich. Whatever.”_

Why _hadn't_ he told Superman?

Bruce more than Batman was asking himself the same question. There were too many possible answers and he'd taken a good long look at all of them.

_I shouldn’t trust him. He has too much power and he’s not human. He shouldn’t trust me. I know how to bring him down… We shouldn't grow too close. Growing close is a complication neither of us has time for._

That sounded reasonable.

Some of the glowing green mineral that he knew could hurt and even kill Kryptonians was stored away in a vault right here in the cave – in case it was ever needed. It had been stored here since an alien intelligence had appeared on the scene to steal a whole city. Superman had saved them then, had restored Metropolis. More than anything though it had been a warning to Batman that Kryptonians weren't infallible and could be a danger.

But he knew this wasn’t the true reason for why he wasn’t telling Superman about who he was or how he had saved him.

He knew at least one of the possible answers was more complicated and much more dangerous – and had very little to do with reason.

_The truth is I shouldn’t trust him and yet I like him too much. I do trust him. It scares me. I can’t explain it. It’s like an echo of something that already exists between us that shouldn’t be there. Something important, something that ties us together. Something I want. Something I shouldn't need._

When he thought about it too closely it made him uncomfortable.

Recognition.

He knew what that kind of recognition felt like and there was no way that Superman and Batman would look at each other and feel like they were staring into a mirror, because they were just too different. But that was exactly how Bruce had felt when he and Superman had been close to each other for the first time. They were different and yet there was something they shared.

Something that Bruce wanted to share.

A loneliness. A mission. Friendship.

Something more. Something beyond friendship – deeper or baser, he didn't know.

Something that felt like destiny in its powerful magnetism, but had a much simpler name.

_There’s no room for that “more” in a life like mine. And I doubt there’s room for that in his life. I better put it out of my mind._

The footage of Metropolis was blurry, but the news casters left no doubt that Superman had been attacked approximately 20 minutes ago. By now it had become obvious that it wasn't the usual kind of attack.

Superman was struggling against foes who shouldn't have been able to get close to him.

“More than one attacker is involved,” the voice of Lois Lane narrated over the chaos of rubble and dust that was settling in a Metropolis neighborhood. Clips of the different confrontations that had been recorded in the last minutes were played; some videos clearly captured by bystanders who’d not had the sense to run away gave part of the picture.

In one he could see a humanoid figure in armor that looked like an oversized astronaut suit painted in green and bronze. The person opened fire on a group of bystanders and Superman landed right in front of them to stave off the attack.

Words had been exchanged.

Bruce could see Superman’s lips move in the video. His face was calm.

 _What do you want?_ he was asking the attacker, but the rest hadn't been captured well enough for Bruce to lip read the words.

Superman had not received an answer and something glinted green on the television screen, as Superman was pushed back suddenly right into a parking car that was blown across the street with the impact. The camera captured the moment the Man of Steel gathered himself up from the wreckage with a surprised look.

His lips moved and formed the words: _Who are you?_

And at this point Bruce wanted to know the same thing. Who were these people that knew how to hurt Superman? How had they learned about his weaknesses, how could they play him like they knew exactly what to do?

“The fight isn't over yet,” the reporters voice narrated more than reported and she sounded breathless and worried. Footage in the background changed to a flash of color in the sky as Superman used his speed to take himself away and _something_ seemed to knock him right out of the air despite his incredible speed. It was a terrible sight to behold – and Bruce knew that it shouldn't have been possible. Superman at that speed and in mid flight should have been untouchable.

And yet these people – whoever they were – knew how to get to him.

His heart clenched. Batman had no room for frantic worry and panic. He had no use for it. He needed to look at the facts and see how he could help.

Bruce Wayne had to step back. He needed to be Batman and make sure he was one step ahead of anyone else. If these people knew how to take down Superman, what kind of trouble could that mean for the rest of them?

It was reasonable to intervene.

Superman needed help.

The urgent need to run off and get to him had nothing to do with that inexplicable draw he felt. Nothing.

Nothing at all.

_Focus, man. Superman needs help._

“There are multiple attackers,” Lois Lane whispered into the microphone. She was running and the cameraman had trouble keeping up with her. Shaky recordings of a crushed street in Metropolis followed while the camera tried to zoom in on the red and blue dot visible against the light blue sky.

Superman hovered over the city, hanging hunched over in the air. It was so strange to see him in pain – and yet Bruce had seen him in pain before. Something was wrapped around him, red and gold and shiny.

“What is that?” Alfred asked and edged closer and Bruce too leaned over to bring his eyes closer the screen.

The cave had taken on a different kind of chill and not only because Bruce had been working up a sweat before.

“Magic,” Bruce whispered. “Those bonds were conjured up by magic.” That meant there was another player on the board. Someone who used magic. Someone who knew that Superman was weak to magic.

A second weakness exploited in one fight.

Kryptonite and magic?

That wasn't coincidence.

That was bad.

He mentally went through a list of known Superman foes with magical powers, listed names of villains who had had their brushes with Superman in the past and were likely to hold a grudge. Had some of them teamed up to get rid of him? Who were the most likely candidates?

Then he gave the first voice commands: “Superman threats. List all that aren't behind bars. Anything that connects to this attack. Any of hem known to team up? Check for Intergang activity and Lex Luthor's whereabouts.”

The computer started working. Bruce typed more commands, ignoring the food in front of him as he sat down to put the clues together. He had work to do.

Different pages popped up in the background of the gigantic screen, while Bruce clicked through databases and made sure he had the right equipment ready to deal with the kind of wackos that Superman usually dealt with. Grim determination settled over him. In the background the news were still running. The fight wasn't over.

Superman was in trouble.

That much was clear.

“He's moving the fight out of Metropolis,” a voice said. “We lost him.”

“Alfred,” Bruce demanded more than asked even before he'd completely gotten out of his chair and there was no need to say any more. Alfred nodded and took his spot at the news station, giving his own commands.

A site popped up across the screen.

Bruce's eyes snapped up to take in the new information.

A big number was written across a webpage, Superman's smiling face above it as he was flying. It was a cheesy animated gif that could have been made in the early days of the Internet. But that wasn't what had his hackles up. “50 000 000 US Dollars for anyone who can take down Superman.”

Bruce blinked.

It was so simple and unassuming. A badly designed, badly presented webpage that could have been from the good old geocity days. But even that seemed to be on purpose.

Misdirection.

“Track that,” he ordered, already trying to figure out who would have the kind of money and audacity to order a hit on Superman in such an obvious way. But the longer the search ran, the clearer it became that nothing about this was obvious or easy. A first look at the page might make it look like a bad joke, but the work that had been done on this in the background was the work of a professional. Hidden forums and communication. Coded messages in comments. No trace on locations that would help him.

“We can take it down,” Alfred said.

“But it will spring up again. And those in the know will know where to look.”

“I will call Master Tim,” Alfred suggested.

Bruce nodded. Tim's hacking skills would be needed.

A list of Superman's fights with footage from known fights popped up on another screen while they worked their way through the page and he quickly glanced at it.

Right now the hidden information, the connection of decentralized databases kept his attention. Explanations about Superman's weaknesses that someone could have taken right out of Bruce's own files was given in detail when you hacked your way in deeper.

It was there all of it.

Someone had analyzed every fight, every confrontation on record that involved the man of Steel and put a handbook together for anyone who wanted to take a shot at him.

His eyes narrowed. Alfred looked at him, face half-resigned.

This had been planned and prepared.

Someone meant business.

“Ready the Batplane,” he said.

“He's no longer in Metropolis.”

“But wherever he is, he'll need some backup.”

He got up and walked towards the glass case that held the newest Bat suit.

Time to get his head in the game. Nobody was going to take down a Justice League member on his watch, least of all the one member he’d risked his life to get back from Apokolips.

 _Nobody_ got to lay a finger on Superman and walk away.

* * *

He let the computer stream the news to him in the cockpit as he flew out to look for Superman. Of course, even without any tangible news about Superman's current whereabouts Batman had a plan. Despite his focus on Gotham, he kept track. And while he doubted that their resident Kryptonian would appreciate it, Bruce had tracked Superman sightings for well over a year. Since that business with Metropolis being “stolen” he had made it his business to know what was up with Superman _just in case_.

It sounded wrong even to him, but he knew his own paranoid tendencies and he knew they served him well. But this was so much more complicated. At first he had been wary of the alien and his powers – but somewhere along the lines his priorities had changed.

Not _completely_.

He still kept track of the powers, of weaknesses, of potential threats.

He still had contingencies.

Life had taught him to be a paranoid bastard and he'd never regretted being too cautious, not trusting too easily. He was a mere man playing between metas and supers.

His paranoia, it saved lives. Sometimes his own. Most of the time other people's.

It served him well in his war against crime and whatever else the world threw at him.

But he would be lying if he pretended he was still tracking Superman because he didn't trust him. Who else could you trust if not Superman?

He was reluctant to put a name to what it was he was doing. He hadn't been _stalking_. He'd kept his distance.

But part of him needed to know more – so he'd kept track and gathered data.

Pure and simple and not out of the ordinary for him.

_Why are you feeling like this is something you need to confess to him then?_

With his knowledge of Superman's movements he had a fair idea of where the man went right before he vanished from the scene for a while. The Arctic had always seemed like a well chosen place for whatever base the Kryptonian had built for himself on Earth – away from prying eyes and civilization. Batman had always wondered what exactly was there that drew Superman, but they hadn't been close enough for him to pose the question.

Could he ask now? They were friends now, weren't they?

Now Batman was doing a simple math: Where would he go if he were wounded? Where would he go if he were in danger?

The cave.

There he had everything he needed to fight back and was hidden enough to safely recuperate.

So whatever was Superman's “cave” - that was where he was going.

“Sir?” Alfred's voice rang up in his ear.

“Yes?”

“New footage relayed directly from Watchtower.”

Watchtower as the new headquarter in orbit that he and the others had been building piece by piece to give the Justice League a place to meet and coordinate.

“Anyone up there keeping an eye?”

“Only the automated systems, sir. The living quarters aren't finished yet and life support systems are not yet stable enough to permit or permanent use.”

He nodded to himself.

They would have to take care of that little detail very soon.

He switched the systems over to a direct connection with Watchtower.

Until this very moment he hadn't been nervous. Superman was as indestructible as you could get on this planet – although Bruce had a feeling that from the early footage that he'd seen it might not always have been this way for the Kryptonian. Even a Superman had to learn how to fly.

And apparently – he could be made to crash.

That was what he was seeing right now: Superman had gone in a straight fast line across the sky and it should have been impossible to see him clearly, but he'd been slow. That in itself was strange. If Superman wanted to vanish he simply did and without the need for any of Batman's tricks. He could be as fast as the Flash when he put his mind to it. So, why had he been slow in the first place?

On the monitor the moment replayed. Something had hit Superman mid flight. Something big and powerful enough to take him out of the sky.

His fall left a crater in the middle of an Alaskan wood region and the computer informed him there was nothing out there for miles but cold and snow.

“Going on silent,” Batman announced to Alfred.

Whatever was going on here, it wasn't good.

And whoever had taken Superman out of the sky – he would be just as aware of the place where he'd crashed.

Apparently the law enforcement was already advising people to keep their distance, although it was unlikely that even hikers were around the area because a blizzard was about to hit the region.

Perfect conditions for the hunters to hunt their possibly wounded prey.

Time for him to even the odds again.

The plane was equipped to let all scans run at the same time and Batman took advantage. From miles away he could scan movement. But if he could, others could to. Depending on technology he might have a slight edge but that was all he could count on. He did a final check of the belt, took stock of all the equipment at his disposal and then made sure the plane remained in stealth mode. He had a reading for a likely Kryptonian life sign on he ground. There was a cluster of three human life signs to the east, but still far off.

Someone was combing the woods.

They hadn't found their prey yet.

The Kryptonian life sign was moving slowly.

That wasn't good.

Bruce typed a new command fast and then positioned himself at the hatch.

The plane would hover here, let him down and then go to a place where it could land safely out of sight.

Right now that seemed the smartest way to go about without attracting unwanted attention. Before he had more information he was better off unnoticed.

He let himself down with a kevlar rope, jumping to the first tree. From there he watched the plane wink out with the cloak tech he was testing and heard the soft sound of its engines as it moved away.

It was cold, but in the suit he didn't feel it too badly. If he remained out here it would become a problem though. He was human. He wasn't designed to stay out in these temperatures. Especially not with a blizzard coming.

He listened for a moment. There were no sounds around that hinted at him having company yet.

With a precise jump he let himself hit the ground and his boots made a satisfying crunching sound as he sank into the snow with his weight. Snow. It would hinder his movements somewhat and would make hiding just this much harder. Not only would he leave a trail to follow – his black suit was designed for the shadows of Gotham. The snow put him right in the spotlight.

He would have to be careful and plan his movements accordingly.

But Superman was his priority here. If he was hurt – and Batman knew what it took to hurt him – then there was no time to lose.

He pulled the cape up and around his shoulders, used part of it to cover his mouth against the cool air. Then he started his track towards the last location of the Kryptonian life sign. There was about a 1.5 miles distance to cover and he hoped that the the three life signs he'd counted were truly all hunters he'd find out here.

First though he had to help Superman get rid of whatever was keeping him from flying.

The scanner on his wrist told him that there were still four life signs in the general area. The one closest to him was Superman.

As swiftly as the snow allowed it he made his way over, twice using a grappling hook to swing himself over frozen tree trunks and obstacles in his way. It was truly cold and with another compatriot Bruce would have feared for the worst now. But Superman couldn't be killed by a bit of cold.

He regretted the thought as soon as it had come to him, because his eyes came across the first real sign of his quarry.

Someone had waded through the snow, leaving it disturbed in a long trailing track that could easily be followed.

It wouldn't matter with the oncoming blizzard; all tracks would soon be gone again and that would afford them some amount of stealth. But first they had to get out of there. First he had to find Superman who was hurt enough to _walk_ through the slow with no care of hiding his steps.

He closed in carefully, keeping track of possible traps and attackers.

Then he saw it: fresh, bright red in the pristine white snow.

Blood.

He knew that wasn't good. Superman _had_ been hurt.

Damn.

Whoever had prepared this strike against the Kryptonian had managed to get further than most.

Batman needed to stop this before it got too far.

With the knowledge that his usually invulnerable friend might be in mortal danger, he pushed himself harder. Superman couldn't be far.

_Don't let him be far._

He followed the tracks, stepping right where Superman had when he could to not leave even more hints for Superman's pursuers. It had started to snow, at first just a few tiny flakes appearing in front of his eyes, but by now the flakes were big and soft and coming faster and faster. Batman knew that under the circumstances the blizzard would be a problem. They needed to get out of here now before they couldn’t anymore.

And then between the trees he could make out a strip of red and blue covered by white.

Superman.

The cape was spread out behind him like a blanket. He was on his hands and knees and even from here Batman could make out that he was breathing heavily, clutching his side. Bleeding.

That was were he'd been injured.

Invulnerability hadn't helped him against Kryptonite infused weapons.

And Superman didn't look up, to focused on panting and getting himself together.

The sight fed his worry and he pushed into a run, hastening as fast as the snow would let him.

Superman turned his head, brow sweaty and eyes dilated, and Batman expected a defensive reaction, but the man just smiled at him very tiredly. “Took your time. You have a very distinctive way of moving.”

“You knew it was me?”

_How could he know?_

Only steps separated them now.

“Wasn't sure, but I hoped... Hearing is... Well, everything is... shot.” Superman chuckled. That shouldn't have worried him more than the fact that Superman was hunched over and bleeding, but it did.

It was a painful sound and not the usual happy one and with it a fist clenched around Bruce's heart. None of this was good.

He closed the final gap and bent down over his friend. “What happened?”

“Kryptonite,” Superman said tersely.

Information. He needed all possible information. “Bullet?”

“No,” Superman answered and let himself be dragged into a sitting position. “That's from the fall.”

A branch had injured him when he'd crashed through the trees.

That was so... human. He inspected the injury. “Gas?” he finally said.

“I breathed in more than a lung full mid flight. Slowed me down, made me cough. I didn't see the missile coming.”

That explained the wheezing and the roughness of the voice, too.

Batman looked around. By now it had become hard to see through the snow. He pressed a button to activate the masks special sensors. A filter came down in front of his eyes to make it a little easier to sweep the area.

“What do we do?”

Superman laughed. The sound was harsh and unpleasant and so unlike him. He must be in a lot of pain. “I'd hoped you'd have a plan. That's your thing, isn't it? I can barely breathe,” he admitted. “You shouldn't... You shouldn't be here. It's... danger...ous and... there are... more... There's one...” Superman looked to the trees in warning.

“Spare your breath,” he said in his best annoyed Batman voice. Right now he wasn't feeling annoyance. He was simply worried. “I am here. And we'll get you out of here.”

“No,” a harsh and heavily accented voice said from behind them and Batman silently cursed under his breath. How could he have let his attention slip so much? “You won't get him out of here. He'll make me rich.”

Superman was looking at up at Batman from under dark bangs. He hadn't really moved since Bruce had helped him sit up. They were really close though and Bruce could see a flick of the blue gaze toward the trees and knew now that was meant for him. A warning. There was more than one attacker here.

“Nothing to say?” the hunter spoke and finally stepped into Batman's line of vision.

He didn't need to say anything. He squeezed Superman's arm, pulled his other hand slowly away and behind the back of the Kryptonian to push a button on his utility belt without anyone seeing it.

Then he got up, not loosening his grip on Superman's arm even for a second.

“Human?” he asked, because now that he could see the person, he realized it was the one with the body armor covering them from head to toe. Under the armor could be anyone or anything with a grudge.

“None of your business,” the hunter hissed. “We're here for Superman. But I'm sure someone will pay additional prize money if I take out both of you. You're a pest too.”

“Likely,” Batman admitted, although it was just as likely that crime lords all over the world would rejoice at the news of his untimely death and then try to get rid of the killer before he could make a grab for power. Why would they'd consider passing over a single dollar? Giving away the money they had fought for was rarely something these kinds of people enjoyed whatever dirty service you'd done them.

But this hunter was already playing a game with prize money that someone was offering.

That meant he wasn't alone out here looking to win the game; he knew he had to hurry this up because there was back-up but also competition.

For all intents and purposes Batman was alone right now. With the trouble caused by the injury, Superman was out for now.

“He's dying anyway,” the man spat. “Look at him! He breathed in the green stuff good. Worked just as we were told. It's killing him.”

He held up a metal ball. It switched open, revealing a tiny shard of Kryptonite.

Superman winced beside him.

Priorities were clear again and the two hunters – three if he was right about the hypothesis that this one wasn't alone – were the ones he had to take out first to get Superman to safety.

But they weren't alone either. More would be on their trail. The on thing that Batman and the hunter could agree on here was that it was better to make this quick. And one thing about Batman they didn't seem to be aware of now was his biggest asset: He always had a plan and he always had a few tricks up his sleeves.

He jumped, making sure his cape obscured Superman's body enough to not make him a good target – just as the plane appeared above them, shooting a line of fast warning bolts into the tree line. There was a shout and shocked by a blast of energy another armored hunter fell out of a tree to their left. A shot rang out, missed him by inches, right before Batman's knuckles connected with the face of the mask in front of him.

The mask broke under the impact and revealed the scared face of a man beneath.

“Human after all,” he muttered and rolled out of the way, because the third hunter had opened fire on him. He didn't forget to make a grab for the metal container with the Kryptonite to close it.

It was bad enough that he had left Superman unshielded.

Of course, Superman was still Superman even when he was injured and Bruce had counted on that. Shaky on his feet, and not as strong as he usually was, Superman at least got a shot off with his heat vision, blasting the machine gun out of the attacker's hands, the man let it fall with a string of curses.

“God,” Superman said, panting for breath, and let himself rest on his knees in the snow. “I hate this. How do you do this without an invulnerable body? This is _painful_.”

“Gritting my teeth a lot,” he grumbled back and didn't for a moment let any of their enemies out of his sight. One man lay paralyzed in the snow, one unconscious at his feet, but the final one vanished into the trees again. “They'll call for backup if they have any. Someone put an insane prize money on your head, Superman. If this group doesn't get it, I'm sure there are more waiting for there chance...”

“Money?” Superman coughed and then stared at him in utter disbelief, but slowly and very unsteadily stood on his own feet. Above them the plane hovered and slowly moved down so they could get to it. “This is about money? That's so... trite. I would have thought it was for the glory of... Well.”

He gestured to himself with a pained expression.

“Killing the Man of Steel.”

He allowed himself a tiny grin. “I'm afraid criminals are that camp. Money remains the main motivator. However awesome you are.” No longer able to watch the usually strong man shake where he stood like a forgotten leaf in the frosty, wind Batman grabbed him by the arm, let him lean on his shoulder, and pulled him along towards the Batplane. “Time for us to get out of here.”

The snow would help them get away hopefully.

“I'm ready,” Superman whispered and let himself be pulled along, but carried as much of his own weight as he could. Finally, they reach the Batplane and Bruce helped him climb in. Superman let himself fall heavily into the seat and watched through half-open eyes as Batman took the pilot seat and set to work and set their course.

“They won't give up,” he warned.

“Of course, they won't,” Bruce agreed as he let them glide away from the field of the battle, employing stealth again. He read quickly what the database had on their armored friends down there. “They are a hunting league. Dangerous prey is what they specialize in. The prize on your head must have been something they couldn't resist. And whoever offered the money, they also offered all information on how to get you down, Superman. You might want to look into that.”

“Good to know.” Superman's voice was getting weaker and he leaned more heavily into the seat, stumbling worryingly over the words.

Batman needed to decide on a course of action. “What do I do?”

“Do?”

“What do you need, Superman?”

“Sun,” he said. “Although right now I'm not sure it'll be enough. This stuff is in my lungs. It's in me and... It's different from last time.”

“Last time?”

“Luther must have... He always meant business. He must have wanted to be sure that next time I couldn't walk away from breathing Kryptonite gas.”

It made a grim sort of sense. Luther must have found a way to make the Kryptonite gas more lethal, help it spread faster make it harder for the fast healing body to expel the microscopic parts of mineral. For all his craziness Luthor was a smart man. And he wanted Superman gone.

“Why did you...?” Superman started to ask before his eyes fell closed and Batman looked over with some trepidation.

“Superman?”

His eyes didn't open, but he gritted out: “...come? Why... did you come for me?”

“I saw you were in trouble,” he said curtly and let one hand slip from the controls.

“Second time,” Superman said, his head was lolling to the side. “This is the second time you came for me.”

“I know.” And he would have come for him whatever the cost, wherever he had to go. He just wasn't sure he would ever be ready to admit as much. He settled on saying: “The League needs you.”

_I need you._

Superman made a weak sound. His eyes remained closed.

It left Bruce to hash out a plan of action on his own.

Superman's base in the Arctic was an option; there must be some information on how to heal him there. He had no coordinates and only a perimeter of Superman sightings to go on, but if he wanted to help Superman the best bet would be a place that had information on Kryptonian physiology that he didn't have yet.

“Knew it was you,” Superman whispered, he sounded a bit stronger than before and without opening his eyes he turned a bit as if he was listening to something. “Your heartbeat. Everyone has their own heartbeat. Yours is always so steady and strong. Calm. Even when your not. So steady.”

 _He recognized me by my heartbeat?_  
His mind went blank for a moment.

_He’s listening to my heartbeat now…_

_Why the hell does that make me feel so… warm?_

“Batman,” Superman whispered and his eyes opened a slit. There was sweat on his brow and his normally vibrant blue eyes were dull. He was going fast.

Bruce cursed his rotten luck.

 _No_ , he thought, _you're not dying on my watch!_

“What?” he didn't want to sound rough. But they needed a plan.

The plane's navigational systems beeped a loud warning at the same time Superman whispered: “Incoming,” and his eyes closed again.

The systems gave no warning. The plane was made to take some abuse, but the sudden shock of impact sent them hurtling. Three little dots appeared on the screen, hot in pursuit.

“Damn,” he muttered and admitted: “I could use some air support now.”

But Superman didn't stir.

A shot scrapped along the wing of the Batplane and he steered them out of the way just in time. He was a hell of a pilot – if he did say so himself. Years of training had taught him all tricks in the book, but he was too good a strategies to think that would mean much at these odds. They were outnumbered and their enemies had been supplied with fast little aircrafts that matched his own.

“Keep your fingers crossed they don't have aces at the helm,” he growled.

Superman groaned. His eyes remained closed.

“Sir?”

Alfred's voice sounded over the communication system and right into the cockpit.

“No time,” he nearly shouted.

“Sir, it looks like...” Alfred started. “You're close to...”

“I know,” he answered curtly. He had kept an eye on their location.

Adrenaline pumped through his veins and time slowed down. Alfred was trying to communicate. At least two missiles had been fired and he knew they had their own targeting system locked on to them. He would have a hard time escaping both even with all his skill. His own heart missed a beat, but he saw Superman's eyes opening, his lips parted, breathing hard panting with the effort of stretching himself into a upright position. Their eyes met for just a split second.

Making his decision in that very moment he pulled the plane down and up in hard curve. Superman fell hard to the side and grunted. One missile found the wrong target and one of the three dots was down.

“We need to go,” he stated softly, confident that Superman would catch the words over the sound of the explosion.

Superman nodded. The paleness of his face was more worrying than the imminent missile impact.

He had time to push one button, then grab Superman's arm. Superman's hands settled on his shoulders and he nodded. Suddenly and just in time Batman pushed the red button that would eject the pilot. With a rush of air they were up and out; Superman's body wrapped around his, their capes fluttering and wrapping around them, tangling in each other in a flurry of black and red. The expulsion was driving them up, then the missile exploded taking the plane with it. A red flower of fire bloomed on the blue sky beneath them and they hurdled through the air.

“Superman?” he shouted.

“Got you,” the man groaned and the hands on Bruce's shoulders were holding on strong despite the pull of the centrifugal forces pulling at them. “Don't use the...”

“Yes,” he acknowledged before Superman could strain himself more. If they used the parachute they would be easily spotted.

The ground rushed up to meet them too fast.

Superman grabbed him tighter, pulled him closer. Arms settled around his back and hips and suddenly they were face to face, spinning violently through the air, their wrapping around each other's. With his own heavy gauntlets he tried to keep a hold on Superman's shoulders, folded his arms around his neck when the forced pulled on his arms. It was like a desperate embrace.

“Sorry,” Superman whispered, but Bruce wasn't sure what he was apologizing for and there was no time to think now.

Trees.

Snow.

Ground rushing up.

They tumbled towards it.

A loud crash and a bright shine of a second explosion signaled that the plane's wreckage had already reached the ground.

Superman's face sunk into the crook of his neck, making their awkward fall even more like a passionate embrace. Then they were slowing, hovering, leaves rustled around them as they sunk through the treeline and finally their feet set softly down on the ground.

They'd made it.

Superman had caught them with what strength he had left.

But they weren't safe yet.

A gash from the explosion bled on his chin. But that was his only injury.

He wasn't the one he was worried about though. Superman had yet to let go of him, holding him in the protective hug without moving a muscle, without raising his head from the crook of his neck.

“Superman? Kal-El?”

The heavy weight of the body settled against him.

“I'm sorry to be such a burden,” Superman whispered.

Superman's face was practically pressed against his neck and irrationally, and inappropriately he wished for a moment that there wasn't any thick kevlar there to keep skin from touching skin.

_Not the time and place, Bruce. You have to get him out of here still. Both of you. Get your thoughts back in order._

His wrist computer beeped. A look was enough to confirm that they weren't alone. But his call to Alfred had gone out.

Good.

He had a plan now.

“We need to hide,” he said and tried to shake Superman's shoulder.

The Kryptonian stood immovable like a rock leaning against him.

“You should get out of here.”

“No way am I leaving without you.”

“I don't want you to get hurt because of me.”

He remembered Superman hanging inside the net of Apokolips designed bonds, remembered standing before him without his mask and for a moment thinking: _There, Bruce. You're too late. You failed. He won't ever see you, will never look on you again. You've lost another one before you ever had him._

“I'm here because I want to,” he said and huffed into Superman's hair. “You'd be lost without me.”

He was gratified to feel Superman's rigid stance change a little and the softest, nearly inaudible laughing sound escape his lips. “Probably,” he admitted, between harsh puffs of breath. “Thank you. This is the third time you come to my aid.”

“We're even. You got us down to the ground.” He slipped Superman's arm over his shoulder and his own around his hip. “Come on. Steady now.”

Superman slumped a little. His head sank to his chest and he rasped: “Breathing is hard.”

“I know. We need to move now. Come on. We're nearly there.”

Slowly, careful to not stumble through the snow, Batman started leading Superman forward, further away from the crash site.

“They'll follow our steps. The snow...”

The snow wasn't as deep here as it had been out in the wild. They were closer to a city. It was warmer here. The air was still cold, but at least here it wasn't the kind of blizzard that would be a problem. Superman was right though. Without blizzard they'd be leaving tracks. “Leave the worrying to me. I excel at it.”

“I worry about you,” Superman said and it sounded like he should really spare his breath. “I don't even know where we are.”

“I know,” he said in his gravely Batman voice. “I know very well, in fact.”

“Good,” Superman said. “That's... something. Not the road trip I was planning on.”

Bruce pushed them to walk in the straightest possible line. He knew where they were going and he was focused on getting them there without more incidents. That was the only explanation he had for only realizing what Superman had said: “You were planning to take me on a road trip?”

“Up north. Less road trip than flight. I...”

“To your base?”

Superman's laughter was startled and wet. That wasn't good. Something was still working its way through his lungs and making it harder and harder for him to breathe. “Base. Yeah, my base. That's not really... Let's call it base, yeah.”

_He wants to take me to his place out there in the ice and snow? To show me? Why?_

_Because he_ trusts _you._

The thought alone was humbling.

“Batman?”

“Yes?”

“Where are we going exactly? Because it's embarrassing, but I have no idea how long I can keep...” Superman stumbled.

“ _My_ base,” he said, softly.

“Base?” Superman sounded startled. “This isn't Gotham...”

“Yes and no,” he half-agreed. “We're outside the city limits.”

“Oh,” the man said softly. “We were flying that far?”

“I'm not you, but the plane can cover some crazy distances.”

“How convenient.”

They walked on in silence, Bruce listening to every small sound of distress and every harsh breath. Superman's condition was worsening.

“We shouldn't...” Superman said finally, and Batman knew what the wanted to say. He hadn't become the Bat to bring more danger to Gotham.

“You need help,” he cut off any protests that could be uttered.

“I was supposed to meet someone in Gotham tomorrow,” Superman babbled. “You really want to let me into your secret hideout?”

They were getting close.

He alerted Alfred that they would need someone at the VII-B entrance to the cave, because he wasn't sure if he could get Superman down there alone. And someone needed to go back and make sure their tracks couldn't be followed. Somewhere far away another explosion sounded.

Neither of them commented on it.

“Who?”

“What?” Superman rasped.

“You were supposed to meet someone.”

“Yes, tomorrow at noon.”

It stirred something in Bruce's memory.

Interview.

Daily Planet reporter.

Tomorrow at noon.

“You're Clark Kent,” he said startled and his Batman growl failed him for the moment.

Superman seemed to be as surprised by the words as Bruce felt when the facts suddenly fell into place.

“I...”

He didn't get to finish that sentence though, as he folded in on himself, his knees giving out beneath him.

“Superman! Clark!” he shouted, but could only do so much to keep him upright.

“Alfred, hurry,” he spoke into his comm device in the mask, and prayed they wouldn't be too late.

* * *

They had Superman on a slab in their med bay and Alfred was leaning over the Kryptonian tending to the gashes and cuts. “What is his uniform made of?” he asked absentmindedly and Bruce filed the question away for later, when Clark's life was no longer at stake.

Clark.

Human reporter from Metropolis.

Not really human at all. And yet...

It looked they were all keeping their secrets.

“It's... smart fabric,” Superman said. Bruce nearly whirled around.

Superman's eyes were barely open and he was breathing hard.

“What do we do?” he asked while the computer was analyzing and running all available data against each other.

“It hurts less already,” Superman said between his teeth. For someone who was usually a beacon of truth and justice it sounded suspiciously like a lie. “Sun usually helps,” he explained weakly.

“I know,” Batman admitted, watching uneasily as Clark's blue gaze settled on Alfred.

“There's a piece in the wound,” the man announced. His hands were still on the task. “You are all lucky that I had no time to ever forget about my training in field medicine.”

Bruce made a grunting sound – both acknowledging and dismissing the admonishment in the words.

“Thank you,” Superman hissed, just as a piece of greenish glowing crystal landed on a tray.

On his way over to him Bruce grabbed a prepared lead box to put it away. “You need to rest.”

“I can't stay here, they will...” And suddenly he looked up, alert, putting facts together. Bruce could see the moment when he was looking through the stone, through the cave walls to the mansion, gathering information on his whereabouts.

“They won't come,” Batman said calmly. He switched over the feed from a screen he'd been monitoring for the last few minutes. Flash, Diana and Green Lantern had arrived on the scene to take out the tail they'd gathered.

“Wow,” Superman said meekly and let himself slip back into a lying position. “Okay, okay. Good. Friends you can rely on.”

He closed his eyes to rest.

At that moment Cyborg's voice sounded through the cave. “Site is down, too. I'm still tracking.”

“Thank you Cyborg,” Batman said and slowly moved over to where Superman was lying.

“You should rest,” he told Clark and patted his shoulder awkwardly.

“Your heart is beating fast,” the man whispered and let his head roll to the side. “You were calm and now it's beating faster. Am I dying?”

“No,” he said and felt his heart make the joyful leap this time. “Nobody is dying today.”

* * *

Superman slept for two hours. Bruce managed to get up two floodlights to simulate daylight and watched all readings like a Hawk. After the first hour Clark's breathing evened out. After the second the wounds on his body had healed nearly completely. Even the suit was putting itself back together.

Alfred was finally pushing him into tending to his own cuts and bruises.

Then he left him to his quiet vigil by Superman's side.

The silence gave him time to think. It had been an eventful day for both of them.

Perhaps he had learned that even a Kryptonian superman was hiding the simple secret of a human existence. He'd briefly looked up what he could find on Clark Kent, Daily Planet Reporter and former resident of Smallville. When you knew to look, it was so painfully obvious that the man was the alien the mild mannered reporter the greatest hero this planet had ever seen. The chin couldn't be hidden away, the bright blue of the eyes, even when expression, stance, posture didn't seem to fit at first glance.

Like Bruce Wayne and Batman, Clark Kent and Superman were one and the same.

What did that mean for him now? They were supposed to have an interview tomorrow. And Clark had at least had a glimpse of Batman's cave – of _Alfred_.

_You wanted to tell him anyway. You trust him. You do._

“Why do you keep risking your own life to save me, Batman?” Clark said, his voice drifting over from his metal bed.

Batman swiveled around in his chair. He studied his guest for a long moment before nodding and getting to his feet to walk closer. “I wanted to.”

“Thank you.”

“There's no need to thank me. You'd have done the same thing for anyone.”

Superman inclined his head in agreement. “I'm usually less breakable – you're not.”

Batman smiled weakly. He knew. And yet this _was_ the second time he'd come to help Superman. “We all have our weaknesses.”

And standing here, looking down at the face of Superman that in his mind was now overlaying with the slightly softer features of Clark Kent, he thought, that maybe he had found another of his own.

He was staring.

Clark fidgeted, showing a hint of the young man who was from Kansas as well as from Krypton.

Making his decision in split second he pulled away the mask so they could meet face to face, no secrets between them but the ones they kept inside.

A tiny gasp escaped Superman's lips. “You're Bruce Wayne.”

“Yes,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching into a half-smile.

“I wouldn't have thought...” Clark gestured to the cave and the upstairs and fell silent. He sat up. “I thought I dreamed you up.”

“Dreamed?”

“When you came to pull me from... I thought I saw Batman without a mask. That really happened?”

Superman's cheeks were burning red.

“Yes, it did.”

Superman stared at him and his gaze was searching. “You're the only one of us who has no powers and... yet you came for me. Twice. I wondered why my brain had conjured up a good looking Gotham playboy in Batman's place. I told myself it was the chin or the hints of a real smile when we fought the giant lizard last week that made me... Never mind.” He looked around the cave and smiled – soft and strong and bright. Like Superman, like the sun, and yet so much softer, so much more human.

He wasn't Batman because he let things go easily. He zoomed in right on the information that Clark's was trying to withhold. “Made you what?”

The way Clark's mouth opened in surprise and the way his cheeks turned red was exhilarating; a mystery wrapped in handsome looks and Kryptonian strength. “Indulge in a fantasy.”

He stared.

Batman wasn't often taken by surprise. “Fantasy,” he repeated and drew out the word as if that would give him a fuller picture of what was right in front of him.

Superman chuckled, clearly a little embarrassed. “I'm sorry, I'm new to being a damsel in distress.”

He finally cracked a real smile. “You gave a very good impression. Twice.”

“Why thank you, Mr. Batman, sir. For someone who wears all black you were a perfect knight in shining armor.”

“Dark knight,” Bruce corrected and watched Superman hover a little, testing his returning powers.

“Thank you,” Superman finally said, “for trusting me. For bringing me here, B...”

“Bruce,” he offered.

“Hello Bruce. It is an honor to meet you.” Superman held out his hand and let his feet touch the ground. “I'm Clark.”

“Master Wayne, I hope I taught you that guests are better entertained in the dining room upstairs,” Alfred said from somewhere on the stairs.

But Superman hovered up. “Thank you,” he said. “That is very kind. I think I have to leave now though. I have people who'll wonder where I got off to...”

Bruce nodded and looked at Alfred. The butler's face wasn't giving anything away, but Bruce knew what he was thinking.

_Ask him to stay, you fool._

He opened his mouth, not sure if he wanted to protest or actually hold Superman back, when soft lips pressed a kiss to his left cheek. It came so suddenly, quickened by super speed, without any warning that even with his battle honed instincts and reflexes, he simply froze. When he looked, Clark was smiling like an imp and winked at him.

Only on rare occasions had he found himself at a loss for words, but right now he couldn't do much more than blink in surprise.

Then he grinned. “I'll see you tomorrow, Mr. Kent.”

“It will be my pleasure, Mr. Wayne,” Superman replied. “And thank you for everything, Batman.”

And before his eyes, colors turned into a blur and Superman was gone.

“You should have asked him to stay for dinner.”

 _I should have asked him to stay for breakfast,_ he thought wryly.

He chuckled to himself.

_Maybe next time._

* * *

They met in a nice restaurant. Bruce had taken it upon himself to change the venue of their little interview from a nondescript Wayne Industries meeting room to one of his favorite places in Gotham. He'd put on one of his best suits.

“Mr. Wayne?” Clark Kent looked a little underdressed and out of place beside the fancy waiter accompanying him to the table. His appearance was a well schooled disguise with just enough true character in it that it kept fooling people. Bruce was honestly impressed.

“Yes,” he said with practiced cheer, “that's me. And you are...?”

Clark fidgeted and Bruce was impressed by his acting skills. They ruined it a little by grinning at each other. “Clark Kent, Daily Planet.”

They shook hands and Clark took his place opposite from him – just like they were two people who had just met. He waited until the waiter had stepped away before he asked: “Do you take out all reporter's who come to ask about your charity work?”

“Only the ones I want to impress.”

“I'm impressed,” Clark said and chuckled. “But I was impressed by you before. Very.”

“Good,” he said and let a hint of the Bat voice color his tone. “I wanted to make sure you knew chivalry isn't dead.”

For a moment Clark smiled exactly like Superman would. “Oh,” he said. “I'm learning all about that. Tell me more.”

He had ordered for both of them before Clark had even arrived and pointed to the waiter to indicate that they were ready now. With this he wasn't going to leave anything to chance.

After all first dates were important even when first impression had been made twice over.

**Author's Note:**

> You can follow me for fic updates on [tumblr](https://navaanwrites.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/navaanwrites). This fic has a post on the tumblr [here](https://navaanwrites.tumblr.com/post/174128141379/title-first-impressions-second-look-a-cold) in case you want to share it. It also has a page on my [Dreamwidth](https://navaan.dreamwidth.org/603233.html).

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [A Cold Case/ First Impression, Second Look [Art]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14725298) by [Roscuro69](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roscuro69/pseuds/Roscuro69)




End file.
